


Two in the Bush

by glymr, iesika



Series: Kings Among Runaways [19]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-25
Updated: 2009-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:36:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/iesika/pseuds/iesika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His costume's stupid. His hair's <i>ridiculous.</i> His attitude is really damned annoying.</p><p>He's good looking. He smiles at Tim, all the time, and Tim smiles back bright enough to light the room. He moves like...</p><p>Jason wants to break his fucking face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two in the Bush

Jason's glass hits the table with a thump, splashing juice over his hand and the white tablecloth. Tim and Bruce turn to look at him, and Alfred appears from somewhere with a napkin, only to step out of the way when Jason shoves his chair back in disgust. "You want us to go to _school_? I thought we were going to be _superheroes_."

Alfred is giving him a disapproving look, so he accepts the napkin and wipes his hands while Bruce speaks. "The two are not mutually exclusive," he says in that low, serious voice that isn't quite Batman's.

"Yeah," Tim adds, turning back to his omelet. They're having a 'late brunch,' which is rich old white dude for what Jason's always called 'eggs for lunch.' Jason starts sopping up the juice he's spilled just as Tim says, "Dick did both."

Dick did this! Dick did that! Jason is getting pretty sick of hearing about Dick fucking Grayson. Tim's been following the older boy around like a lovesick puppy for the last few days, ever since the bastard hugged him.

It's sickeningly obvious to Jason what's going on. Tim had attached himself to Jason on the street, where a bigger, tougher, streetwise boy with a reputation for busting teeth was a good friend to have. Now that they're safe in the lap of luxury, though...

Well, Tim wants to be a superhero, right? That's not something Jason can give him. Grayson leads the fucking Titans - and Jason isn't dumb - or _blind_. Before they'd ever even met, Tim had been talking about Grayson like he was some kind of absent god. Once he'd showed up at the house - home for a visit, he'd said, for his birthday...

His costume's stupid. His hair's _ridiculous_. His attitude is really damned annoying.

He's good looking. He _smiles_ at Tim, all the time, and Tim smiles _back_ bright enough to light the room. He moves like...

Jason wants to break his fucking face.

"I mean..." Tim says, uncertainly, and Jason looks up to find himself being observed. Tim is watching him like he thinks he's going to attack somebody. "...I'm really not looking forward to it, either."

Small concession. But at least Tim remembered this time that they were supposed to be on the same side. Partners, he'd said, once.

Partners. Fuck. Look how long _that_ had lasted. Jason's not sure why he's surprised. That's pretty much how things go.

Bruce is still talking. Jason's hand twitches, and he grabs a fork to keep from showing his unease...Holds it tight in his lap and wishes it were something more dangerous. He just sits there, staring at his stupid fucking fluffy, perfect eggs.

"It's an opportunity for you to learn new things, to interact with people your own age..."

Tim's voice is dry. "That would be the part I'm not looking forward to."

"Boys," Bruce says, and Jason can't help but look up. It's something about the man's voice - Jason can't ignore him, can barely argue with him - and it drives him up the wall. "In order for us to do what we do -"

"What _you_ do," Jason mutters, "since you won't _let_ us - "

" _Yet_ ," Tim butts in.

"It is necessary for us to maintain at least a veneer of normalcy. In public, you'll find I play a very particular sort of well-meaning buffoon. All of Gotham thinks I'm the very definition of 'harmless,' and thus far, as far as I know, Tim is the only person to discover what lies under that facade."

The corner of Tim's mouth twitches into a tiny smile, and Jason kind of hates himself for wanting so badly to kiss it. It's the knowledge that Tim wouldn't let him - not in front of an audience, and especially not in front of Bruce - that holds him back. It makes him grip the fork even harder.

"Because I took Dick in, and because I have a history with various youth charities, it doesn't look as strange as it might for two somewhat delinquent boys to be invited into my home, but -"

The burst of anger that overcomes him is so sudden and overwhelming that Jason doesn't even know he's standing until he sees the fork fly across the table to clatter against Bruce's water glass. His chair is on the floor behind him, and Jason can hardly breathe through his rage. "They're gonna think we're _rentboys_ ," he shouts, because apparently Bruce - fucking _Batman_ \- doesn't get it. "You're sending us to some posh school full of stupid fucking rich kids with - with trust funds and private tutors and BMWs, and they're all going to think we're there because you're a freaky old man who likes the double-trouble!"

Bruce doesn't so much as flinch. He doesn't even _look up_ \- just cuts a bite of sausage and puts it in his fucking mouth. Tim, though, is out of his chair the instant Jason's hits the ground and trying to catch hold of his arm.

"Let me go!" Jason shouts, yanking against his surprisingly strong hold.

"Jason, calm down!"

"No! I'm not - I'm not _going!_ I'm not gonna stand there and get gawked at by a bunch of fucking rich kids born with silver spoons up their asses - who've had everything handed to them on a goddamned _platter_ -"

Tim drops his arm, suddenly, looking startled and hurt but Jason doesn't fucking _care_.  Jason bolts for the stairs. Tim doesn't follow.

Well, fuck him, too, Jason thinks. He doesn't think he could handle a fight with Tim right now, anyway, not without going completely insane. Or - Jason comes up short in the doorway of their room. If Tim hadn't let go when he did, Jason thinks he really might have wound up taking a swing at him. The realization makes him feel sick.

Christ, he needs a cigarette. He slips into their room and digs in his things until he finds the crumpled soft-pack he'd tucked in with his underwear. He's only got four cigarettes left, and he's been hoarding them. It's hard to sneak away to enjoy one, anyway. Tim's hated the cigarettes pretty much since day one, but ever since they moved in here, he's been bringing it up every time he smells it on him. Bruce's been lecturing him, too, about lung capacity and oxygen transport and cardiovascular health. It's just one more thing about him that they're trying to change.

He heads to the library at the end of the hall, where there's a balcony that looks out over the garden. Jason's pissed, all right, but he's not smoking inside this museum, not with Alfred around somewhere. He gets the glass doors open and he's fishing for his lighter when he hears Tim's voice from down the hall - probably in their room.

"Jason?"

Fuck. Fuck, Jason can't deal with him right now. He just wants his fucking cigarette and a few minutes of peace and quiet. The iron railing looks sturdy enough...Jason vaults over it and climbs down until he's low enough to swing down to the patio below. He lands on a table and scrambles down, hurrying around the edge of the building and out of sight, keeping to the wall in case someone looks out a window.

There's a tree near the front walk with a limb he can reach when he jumps for it. He tucks his legs and pulls himself up, then grabs the next branch, and the next. Jason's never climbed a tree before, but he's snuck up plenty of fire escapes, and it's close enough. When he's almost level with the roof, and well hidden by leaves and branches, he settles into the bend of a branch with his back against the trunk.

He lights up and takes a long drag, and it's so good it makes his whole body shudder. He's such a fucking addict. _Damn_ it feels good, though.

The stupid, slick leather soles of his stupid, new leather shoes slip against the bark when he tries to get comfortable. He growls and scrubs them against the branch, deliberately scuffing first the soles and then the sides and tops, until the finish is ruined beyond repair and nearly all the shine is gone.

Alfred had measured them for new clothes and costumes - measured, because small, medium and large aren't good enough for rich people. Jason flinches at the memory of how he'd jerked away when Alfred had reached for his inseam. He'd tried to play it off, but the look on the old man's face said he wasn't hiding anything. Jason didn't want his - his _pity_ , like he's damaged fucking goods. But the worst part had been echo of his own flinch in Tim's eyes, because there is nothing - _nothing_ \- worse than Tim knowing exactly how fucked up Jason is. It's why he'd tried to hide it in the first place, lying through his teeth about where the money'd come from, anything to hide his shame. It had been worth it, though, to see Tim fed, even if it had left them both fucking miserable, because Tim hadn't been fooled for an instant.

And then Tim had saved the day with his brilliant plan. Jason wonders, now, though... Well, Tim's smart. Really smart. When Jason had gotten caught, knocked unconscious and dragged back to the Cave...Tim had had a contingency plan. Only maybe it wasn't plan B after all. Maybe it had all been part of Plan A. Tim had been so _happy_ , that first night, like they'd pulled off the world's biggest score. Had he meant to end up here all along?

Jason's not made for this kind of double-thinking. He's not made for any of this. He's not a fucking _superhero_ , whatever Tim seems to think. It was a fun fantasy for a while, playacting with Tim on the mats downstairs. Tim's taken to this like he was _born_ for it - the meditation and the judo and which goddamned fork to use. He's happier now than Jason's ever seen him - warm and fed and genuinely _happy_.

And Jason's got nothing to do with it.

That shouldn't hurt the way it does - shouldn't twist him up inside and make him want to break things. Tim's safe. Isn't that all Jason wanted for him? He's safe and he's happy and he's got Dick fucking Grayson to follow around. He doesn't need Jason anymore.

Fuck. Maybe he never did.

Tim fits here like Jason knows _he_ never will. It's like he's come home, somehow. He's learning and growing and making himself better - making himself into something else. And Jason's supposed to be something else, too - some _one_ else. Someone he was never meant to be.

He can't take this shit. He _won't_ take it. Jason's been all over the house - he knows the layout and where everything is. He can wait until the sun is rising and Batman is sleeping and leave Tim in that giant bed. Clear out all the silver and anything he thinks he can pawn and just _go_. Tim likes it here so much, he can fucking stay. Jason's gone it alone long enough, he can do it again, no problem.

He's gone fucking soft, relying on other people. Look at him, hiding in a tree just to have a goddamned cigarette! The weather's finally changed, and he's got a little cash put by. He can get a little more - enough to get out of Gotham, to New York or Boston or somewhere without crazies. Somewhere that doesn't kill you by inches.

It's a good plan. It's warm enough he won't freeze, and Jason knows how not to starve. He's almost old enough to hire, legal like, and he's picked up enough new skills and tricks to be worth picking up as muscle until then. He won't be standing on corners freezing his ass off anymore. Hell, it'll be _easy_ looking out for just himself, without some kid dragging him down.

His stupid fucking clothes are strangling him, making his throat tight and his skin hot. He pops the buttons on his collar and yanks up his stupid sweater-vest. It's a fight to get it up and over his head, between the balancing act he's pulling and the lit cigarette in his hand. He gets his ears caught, and then has to let go to grab the trunk, because the branch is shaking. When it stops, he tugs the vest off, cursing.

Grayson is hanging from the branch above him like a fucking monkey, dangling from his knees, his stupid hair standing on end. "Get stuck?" he asks, cheerfully.

"Fuck off!" Jason snarls.

Grayson ignores him. "I thought I smelled smoke. You know, those things will kill you."

"So will a fall from this height," Jason says, and kicks him. It's one of the fancy kicks Bruce had taught them, aimed for Grayson's pretty-boy face, but it never connects, because even upside down, Grayson's better than him. He catches Jason's foot and yanks, and Jason has to scramble to keep on the branch. "Shit!" he yelps.

Grayson somehow manages to unfold and sort of _roll_ down to Jason's level, all without letting go of Jason's foot or knocking them both to their deaths. "I don't think I've ever actually fallen out of a tree," he says, conversationally, and crouches down in front of Jason. "Not while the tree was still upright, anyway."

"I hate you," Jason growls, kicking wildly with his other foot, because at this point he'd be happy just to take Grayson down with him.

"I never would have guessed." Grayson grins like an idiot and drops Jason's ankle to let him scramble back onto the branch. "But we're kind of like brothers, now, so I guess you'll have to learn to love me."

Jason gets himself into a stable position. "If I were planning to stick around," he mutters, without looking up. Fuck, he lost his cigarette. He considers going down for it, but it was pretty much to the filter anyway. Jason's body cries for the lost nicotine, though.

"Aren't you? You've been training."

"The fuck do you care?" Jason snaps. "You don't want us around. You made that clear!"

"Hey, I apologized for that, bud." Grayson sighs, "Look, it was kind of a shock, okay? I came home for a visit and found some kid in my colors being molested on the floor-"

Jason's vision goes white around the edges. He feels his face heat, and for a moment he thinks he's sliding sideways off the branch, but when he blinks, he's still upright. "I wasn't-" he protests, " I _wouldn't_ -"

"Whoa, whoa, kidding - " Grayson says, his hands up in defense, but it's so much like Jason's own fears that he's barely even hearing him.

"He's the one - I've never - I would _never_ push him into _anything!_ "

"Easy!" Grayson says over him, looking shocked and a little panicked. "Easy, okay? I believe you. I didn't - I mean - It's kind of obvious you're nuts about each other..."

Jason's rage drains from him, slowly, but the fear lingers. "...obvious?" he asks.

Grayson grins. "I think it's cute."

" _Cute?_ "

Grayson seems to warm to the subject. "I can tell that you two had to take care of each other out there...It's sweet. But things are different, here, okay?" He looks at Jason through his hair, and his smile is gentle, now. "He's not exactly my type, you know. A little young for me."

Jason can feel his ears burning.

"You don't have to worry about anything like that here, okay?"

Jason ducks his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I've noticed you don't seem to like leaving him alone with me, so I thought I ought to tell you to rest easy. Mostly I go for redheads. Mostly _women_ , too, though there's been exceptions. This one time - "

"I don't want to know!" Jason interrupts, and covers his ears with his hands. "Jesus, you think I want to hear about you getting your freak on?"

Grayson laughs and tugs on Jason's wrists until he lowers his hands. "I'm just trying to say... Look, my best friend is a recovering junkie, my girlfriend was a _slave_ \- I grew up in a circus! My favorite playmate had flippers for hands and I learned long division from the bearded lady. I'm really kind of a laid back guy. You don't have to worry about me trying to pass judgment, or something."

Jason yanks his hands away. "Did you just compare me to a circus freak?"

Grayson's dangerous look is ruined by his childish smile. "Do you have something against circus freaks?"

This time, Grayson ducks the kick instead of catching it, swinging around the branch and back up, and nearly knocking Jason off again in the process as the branch shakes wildly. Jason takes a moment to adjust to a more stable position, straddling the branch, and then asks in a quiet voice, "Did you go to school?"

"Huh?" Grayson asks.

"Before you came here." Jason doesn't look up from his hands where they grip the branch between his thighs. "You said - if the bearded lady was your math teacher, you probably didn't go to school?"

"Only in the wintertime, down in Florida. Until I came here. Why? Oh!" His eyes get wide, "Ooooh. He wants you - "

"To go to some stupid posh school."

Grayson cocks his head. "Wesley?"

"Yeah, I guess." Jason frowns up at the light filtering through the leaves. He's too tired to be angry anymore. There isn't a lot of point, anyway.

"I went there for a while. The girls are cute."

Jason's frown twists. Not that he thinks Tim even likes girls, but that's really the last thing he needs. "The fuck do I care?"

Grayson laughs. "Point. Actually, I really kind of hated it. I got Alfred to help me talk Bruce into letting me go public."

Jason blinks and lowers his head to look at Grayson. "Yeah?"

"Here's a tip," Grayson says. "Alfred is _always_ on your side. Unless you're wrong." His smile turns sheepish. "In which case...you're _wrong_."

Jason snorts. It's becoming pretty obvious to him who's really in charge in this fucked up little family.

"And he can talk Bruce into _anything_. But in this case...I think _I_ can do the convincing for you."

"Really?" Jason can't help the note of surprise in his voice. Why the hell would Grayson want to help _him_? It doesn't make any sense.

"Sure!" Grayson stands. He doesn't even bother steadying himself with his hands, first - just rises smoothly to his feet and puts a hand on the branch above them. He turns toward the house, and Jason's pretty sure he's planning to climb up onto the roof. Well, at least that explains where he came from. What was he doing up there? Everyone in this house is fucking crazy. Says the boy in the tree.

"I..." Jason starts, and then breaks off. Why is he even saying it? It's none of Grayson's business. But Grayson's turning back around and Jason's looking at his hands. "I haven't really been to school since I was twelve."

Grayson whistles, low.

"Yeah." Jason winces. "Yeah. Shit, I _know_ -"

"No, no," Grayson says. "This is me not judging. I flunked out of Hudson, you know."

Jason looks up. Grayson's standing there with both hands over his head, sort of leaning on the branch above them. "Yeah?"

He nods. "Bruce made a really big deal about me getting a college education...but honestly, I know what I'm going to be doing with the rest of my life. It doesn't require a degree. Bruce taught me how to find out what I need to know - how to educate myself, I guess. I learn new stuff every day, and it's way more relevant to _me_ than anything I'd get in a classroom. I can pick up girls and interrogate criminals in six languages. They don't teach you that in school."

Despite himself, Jason smiles a little.

"And I can talk dirty in two languages that didn't originate on this _planet_ ," he continues, grinning almost evilly. "But Bruce won't teach you that part. You'll have to learn for yourself."

Jason...blinks. "What?" he asks stupidly, and then gets his mouth under control. "Wait, what? Like, aliens? You... _Aliens_?"

Grayson laughs, his head thrown back, and he's still entirely too good looking, but maybe Jason doesn't want to punch him anymore. "I did say I was laid back. Oh, I'm going to have _fun_ introducing you guys to my friends this weekend."

Jason sits up. "What?"

"The party. Wait, nobody told you?" Jason's sudden distress must be obvious because Grayson laughs again, more softly. "Don't make that face, kid."

"Like, a fancy party? A rich people party?" Oh god, Jason really _will_ run away. He's on the next fucking _train_.

Grayson snorts. "The kind of party where Kid Flash eats all the chips and we end up by the pool so Aqualad can stick around and Changeling can try to do inappropriate things to the girls with octopus tentacles. Bruce will get into an argument with Superman about something stupid and Diana will knock their heads together. Some lame villain will show up... Oh!" He turns and looks at Jason with sudden delight. "Oh, you don't know how great it is that your boyfriend's in the biz. You don't know how many dates the _Condiment King_ has ruined! But when you're dating another hero you just have a team up and then go back to the restaurant - or, you know, don't go back to the restaurant, but you're my little brothers now so I'm not going to think about that part."

Jason freezes. Boyfriend. _Dating_. Are they? He's never thought of himself as anybody's boyfriend before - or anybody who would _have_ a boyfriend, for that matter. Jesus, that sounds gay. They aren't _dating,_ though. Dating is, like, taking somebody out to the movies or dinner or whatever. They're just messing around, right? They're _partners_ sure, but...

Grayson ducks, suddenly, and crouches beside him. "Speaking of," he whispers, "somebody's looking for you."

Jason can't see anything for the leaves. He opens his mouth to ask, but gets shushed. Grayson motions him up, but Jason just looks at him like he's crazy, until Grayson rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. "It's just like the beam," he whispers.

Yeah, sure, except the beam doesn't _move_ when he does. They really are high up, and the branch was fine for sitting on, but Jason's not sure how well he trusts it. Still, if _Grayson_ can do it... He braces himself with one hand on the trunk and the other on the branch, and gets his feet under him. God, he's going to burn these stupid shoes. Grayson's wearing _sneakers_ , the bastard. Jason takes his hand anyway, and stands. There's a gap in the branches, and from this angle he can see down to the front door of the house.

Tim is standing on the doorstep, maybe twenty feet from the tree, He's got one hand on the knob, and he looks a little lost. Jason can't see his face from up here, but his whole posture is off, somehow, like he's not sure whether to go in or out. He finally shuts the door and takes a few steps out onto the front walk, looking down the long driveway, toward the gates.

He stands there for a long time, and Jason just watches him. He doesn't get to watch Tim, much - not without Tim knowing. At least not when he's awake. He's filled out a little since they met. His shoulders are a little broader, and he's definitely taller. He's still a shrimp, but he looks like somebody who can maybe take care of himself. Jason _knows_ he can handle himself in a fight. Even before they started all this crazy training, he was pretty tough.

He looks _good_. The slacks and button-downs suit him better than they do Jason. Tim never looks like he's playing dress up or something, the way Jason feels. He'd let Alfred cut his hair, last week, and he's got it spiked a little bit with gel. It makes him look older. Jason likes it.

Down below, Tim turns slowly around, back toward the door. He changes direction suddenly and spins into one of the crazy kicks Bruce taught them, his whole body tilting as his leg pistons out, parallel to the ground, and his foot strikes one of the big terra cotta planters by the front door. The pot is huge - half as tall as Tim - but it topples over despite its size and cracks against the brickwork with a dull, ringing sound, spilling dirt and ivy onto the ground.

Jason drops down to the branch, and then swings down to the next one. He can't see Tim until he's almost to the ground, but he can hear him make a broken kind of sound, and then there's more smashing noises. Jason hits the ground running, and Tim whirls at the sound. Jason's startled to see tears in his eyes. "What happened?" He asks, breathing heavy from the climb.

Tim takes a step toward him and then stops. He turns away again and wipes his face.

"Tim-"

"I'm fine," he says, and his voice is thick, but he's not crying anymore.

Jason hears himself make a frustrated sound. "You're not _fine_ , you're _breaking things_."

Tim doesn't turn around. He shakes his head, and then, after a moment he says, "I couldn't find you," in a voice so small and quiet Jason can barely hear it.

Jason feels his guts clench. God, he's such an asshole. "Tim," he says again, and tries to make it an apology.

"You were so mad," Tim continues. "I thought-" He stops. He turns around, and except for the flush of his cheeks, Jason can't tell he's been upset at all. "If you want to leave," he said, his voice quiet but sure, "I'll go with you."

"What?" Jason asks. He can't wrap his brain around it. "I'm not -"

"Promise you won't leave without me."

"I'm not going anywhere." Jason says, and he realizes all at once that it's true. Tim is here. Tim is _happy_ here. Where the hell else would Jason want to go? It was one thing to make stupid plans when he was mad - like a little kid who stuffs all his toys in a suitcase and makes it two blocks before he realizes it's supper time. He wouldn't _actually_ carry through on them. He wouldn't have made it to the _gate_ before missing Tim. Not to mention Alfred would probably shoot him if he tried to make off with Wayne family heirlooms - and then look very disapproving while he bled out all over the carpet.

Tim doesn't look reassured, though. "I mean it," he says low and serious, "we can do whatever you want. We can go. We can go where-ever you want."

"Jesus," Jason says. He steps forward and yanks Tim into a rough hug, "Stop, okay, I told you I'm not -"

Tim doesn't stop. "We can - " he presses his face to Jason's neck. "We can leave. Gotham. If. I know you hate it here."

God, no. Jason squeezes Tim until he's lifted almost off his feet. "Tim," he chokes, because - because -

Tim wouldn't leave Gotham to be with his _dad_. He lied to his _mother_ to stay here, let her go off without him to start her new life, took to the streets to starve and beg and steal, froze on the floor in shithole squats when a single phone call would have meant hot food and central heating. Tim _loves_ this stupid, fucked up city - loves it like you love a _person_ , hard and deep and completely fucking irrational.

And here he is, living in Batman's fucking house, training to be _Robin_ , and he'd give that up? For _Jason_?

"Hey," he says, suddenly hoarse. He tucks his cheek down against Tim's, presses his nose into the warmth of his hair. "I'm happy wherever you are, kid. And you're happy _here_. I just - " He looks up at the tree. At some point, Grayson had taken the opportunity to disappear. "I just needed some air."


End file.
